I'm a master with a tape measure but shopping isn't fun anymore

It is said that variety is the spice of life and if true, then yesterday’s ingredients transformed what would have been a ropey old stew into a taste of the Taj Mahal.
If you have been following these posts, you will know that the demands on the wife’s time and talent, make President Biden look like a casual part-time worker, on a zero-hours contract. Under severe strain in the schedule, she was called upon to survey a client’s, rather substantial, garden and asked me to assist her in holding the measuring tape. As luck would have it, at present, I have nothing on that can’t wait a day or two and so, of course, I readily agreed.
I have some previous experience in “tape holding” and although, I don’t have any formal qualifications, the wife seemed willing to take the risk. In any case, I thought that this was my opportunity to accrue some credits in the relationship account which, I figured, could be called upon in the near future should I step on any relationship landmines and find myself with the prospect of having to visit Javier, the florist, (see previous post). I should also add that Lily, (the dog who must be adored), was none too pleased to say the least, since she was to be left behind and by the look in her eyes, I knew she blamed me for that.
So, all morning, the wife surveyed, taking readings, plotting undulations, calculating lengths and widths while I moved about the garden, tape in hand, like a stealthy ninja warrior with a sense of purpose and utter loyalty and obedience to his sensei. After about three hours of back-breaking tape holding, we finished up and the wife bid a fond farewell to her clients. On the way back in the car I basked in the glory of her expressions of gratitude, to the gratifying sound of “Kerching”, as the credits began to pile up in the relationship account.
After lunch, drunk on the morning’s success, I decided to buy myself a new computer. Honestly, there are few experiences in life that release the torrents of dopamine than the idea of buying a new computer. But when it comes to executing the idea, it’s not a straight forward task. You have to do the research and choose your specs. This complex task, as I soon realized, is similar to carrying out a literature review for a PhD thesis. I had to fortify myself with several trips to the Nespresso machine.
However, with the preliminary spade-work done, I was ready to go to the store for a final, pre-purchase inspection. In my view, this is important since it’s the only way you can judge whether you feel comfortable at the prospect of staring at the beast, more or less, every day for the next 5 years or so.
Once through the doors of the shop, the first time I had visited such a cathedral in over year, I was pounced upon by a group of pasty, pimply-faced youths, dressed in black, all wearing masks. For a moment I thought I had found myself in the midst of an urban riot on the streets of Philadelphia in the aftermath of the actions of a trigger-happy “cop”. I gave the young tube, who managed to beat his compadres to the punch, the details of the computer in which I was interested. He promptly told me that they didn’t have the "said" machine in store, directed me to a store computer and guided me through the online ordering procedure, all of which I could have done myself at home.
Shopping just isn’t fun anymore and I have to wait 2 days before I can get my hands on my new computer. Never mind, for once, I’m securely on the right side of ledger in the relationship account.